


I'll Tell Them It Was Magic

by Darwig3



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV First Person, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darwig3/pseuds/Darwig3
Summary: A ripple of energy rolls off of his skin and into my body. I think I may have seen a glow of magic, but it might have just been a shiver (when I tell this story to our children I’ll tell them it was magic). Either way, the smile that pulls coyly onto his face is the realest magic I’ve ever seen. And when he pushes up to kiss me I’m dizzier than he’s ever made me before.





	I'll Tell Them It Was Magic

“Snow, what happened to your face?” 

He’d tried to sneak past me, angling his body towards his side of the room to shield me from seeing the large gash on his cheek. But the door to our room opens towards my bed and I was already looking there anyway. He was so much later than usual getting back from dinner. 

“It’s none of your business, Basil.” He says as he toes off his shoes. He crawls straight into his bed, not bothering to change out of the rest of his uniform. He faces the wall and draws his blanket over his head. His shoulders start to shake beneath his duvet. 

Someone did this to him. The little blood that I still have in me starts to boil.

“Who did it?” 

No answer. Not that I was expecting one. Snow has never been one for words. It’s the only thing keeping him from truly being the most powerful Mage. I can’t even imagine what he’d be like if he could actually get through a spell without flubbing the words or messing up the emphasis. He could rule the world. But as it is, he can’t even defend himself. 

Truthfully, it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t tell me. I’d have to kill whoever did this to him. 

Minutes, maybe tens of minutes pass but he’s not asleep. I would know. After you live with someone as long as I have lived with Snow you know when they’re asleep and when they’re ignoring you. Or maybe it’s just because I’ve made a habit of watching him sleep. Not in the creepy way. It’s just the only time I can look at him without having to school my face into looking like I’ve just smelled something rotten. 

I know he’s not asleep, and yet I can’t tear my eyes away from him. His shoulders are shaking with more force now. The air in the room is growing hotter, and I can just see a bit of glowing orange creeping out from the edges of his duvet. I need to calm him down before he blows up all of Mummers. 

“Snow,” my voice is soft, maybe softer than I’ve ever spoken to him, “you’re going to blow us all up. Please, just tell me who did it.” 

In place of words, Snow finally lets go. He’s sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. He’s really going to be the death of me. Either he’ll kill me in battle or he’ll break my heart. There’s no way both of us are making it out alive. I have a feeling that the fact that I’m already half dead is telling of my fate. 

“I can’t,” he manages to cry.

“Well, what can you do to calm down?” 

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” 

“Well, what can I do?” 

Snow moves so suddenly he almost makes me jump. “Why do you care? You’re the person that’s hurt me the most. Now you suddenly care that I have a little cut on my face?” 

I ignore the knife of guilt that has plunged its self into my heart. “It’s not just a cut, Snow. You wouldn’t be crying over a little cut.”

“Because you know me so well,” he says, eyes narrowing. 

“We may not be friends, but I do know you, Snow. I know that you hate me, but right now it seems as though you need a chat and Penny’s not around, so I’m offering. But, I’ll leave if you want. Better to clear out before you set us aflame.” 

“I’m not gonna go off!” He shouts, his glowing orange aura expands, bursting out from under the covers for just a moment before snapping back into place. Lingering just above the surface of his skin. This starts Snow crying again. He doesn’t bother turning back towards the wall, just throws his head back into his pillow. He presses the palm of his hand to his forehead before throwing his arm over his eyes. 

I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve seen him cry, of course. But most of the time I had caused his tears. I’ve only ever seen him cry when he was hurt or frustrated. These tears are different. These are sad tears. The kind you can’t stop even when you want to. The ones that let you think they’re over just to start up again tenfold when your brain finds its way back to whatever made you cry in the first place. Tears which are accompanied by the largest stone in your gut, and the deepest cut in your heart. 

I swing my feet over the side of my bed. The space between our beds is so narrow my knees scrape his frame, and when I sit forward slightly my face is only a half a foot from his. “Simon.” 

He’s sucking in short, shallow breaths. They’re too quick, he’s gonna hyperventilate soon. “Simon, please,” before I can even think I’m standing up. And then I have a knee on his bed. Then another knee. And my hand is in his hair, stroking his golden waves. And I’m making those shushing noises that adults make at kids when they’re crying. Snow grabs my other arm and drags me down so I’m lying half on top of him, he brings my hand to his rib cage and rests it there. And it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but not like this. 

I want to tell him ‘it’ll be ok, love’ it’s the only thing that I can think to say. But I can’t do that now. Can’t say that now. I’ll most likely never tell Snow I love him, but if I ever do it will be when we’re at our happiest. When there is no threat of war, or mutual destruction. No cuts on our cheeks or our hearts. It won’t be tainted with sorrow. It will never happen, but if it does it will be perfect. I can’t say it now, so instead I say nothing. I just lay there and shush him until his breathing has returned to a normal pace. I stay there until his last tears are shed and I wipe them away with the pad of my thumb. My other thumb rubs back and forth over one of his ribs.  
My head is on his chest and his smell is almost intoxicating this close up. Wood fire and sour cherries. 

“Baz?” Simon tests quietly, he must think I’m asleep cause I haven’t moved in a while. 

“Mmmm?” It’s the only response I can muster. I don’t know when I entered this almost comatose state. Probably about the same time Snow’s breathing returned to normal and his chest stopped heaving. 

“Why do you care who did this?” He continues, his fingers find the gash on his cheek. He hisses when they brush over it. 

“I know you think I’m some kind of monster. That I spend my days plotting different ways to hurt you; which, was true up until we were 14. Now I just spend my days wondering why I can never stop myself thinking of you.”

“But-“

“I don’t like hurting you, Simon. It’s just…easier.” 

“Easier than what?” 

We can’t do this now.

“Answer my question first. Who did that to your face, and why has it got you so worked up?” 

He’s silent again, for what feels like hours but it’s merely minutes in real time. The occasional sniff is the only thing telling me he’s still awake. I trace my pointer finger in circles on his torso. When he speaks again his voice is surprisingly even. 

“It was the Mage.” 

My whole body tenses, my finger stalling just below his sternum. “I’ll kill him, I swear it.” I’m half way out of bed, when he pulls me back. Wand already ripped from my pocket in a firm grasp in my hand.

“Please. You wanted me to talk, I’m talking. I need you to listen before you do anything stupid.” 

He pats the empty side of the mattress, scooting over so now we’re lying on our sides face to face. He’s so close my eyes can barely focus on him. I nod so he knows that I’m ready for him to continue. 

“I go to the Mage’s office a lot. Sometimes I hang out there when I wanna be alone. Sometimes I go there just to feel closer to the Mage. He’s always been like a father to me. Just one I barely ever saw. Turns out I had a reason to feel that way.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“I found a picture today. Well I found a few pictures today. The Mage when he was a student, and a woman, Lucy, who had my eyes. And another picture where Lucy was pregnant.” 

“You believe she’s your mother?” 

“She was my mother. And the Mage,” he grinds the word out through his teeth, “is my father.”

“The Mage? Your father?” 

“He’s let me believe I was an orphan, a Normal, for 17 years, Baz. Year after year he’s sent me back to home after home. Sent me away from my friends, from Watford, from my home. And all this time he’s been hiding the fact that he’s my father. Keeping me from knowing who my mother was. That she’s dead.” 

He’s heating up again, and now I can understand why. I would have killed the Mage myself if I were him. The bastard. He knows how much Simon hates the homes. I’ve listened to Snow moan enough about them to know that they’re terrible places, filled with awful children who have no respect for anyone else. And horrible caregivers who are only in it for the money. And to keep the identity of his mother from him all these years. It’s despicable. Now he has to mourn a woman he never got to know while also mourning the years he lost not knowing of her. 

“I used up all her magic and it made her weak. She died because of me,” he continued, his bottom lip beginning to wobble “because of what he did to her. To me. He wanted me to fulfill the prophecy. That’s why I’m like this, Baz. I’m not the greatest Mage. I’m a failed lab experiment. And I’m a killer. I killed her, Baz, before I could even know her.” He’s back to crying, back to breaking my heart a little more with every rolling tear. I grab him, pulling him into me. He tucks his head under my chin. 

“You didn’t kill her. None of this is your fault. You said it before, it’s the Mage’s fault. He did this. Not only to her, but to you.” 

“Why did he do this, Baz? Why did he do any of it?” 

“Because he’s a selfish, power hungry fool.” 

“Well much good I’ve done him. All I’ve ever done is bring trouble.”  
Trouble. Yes, Simon Snow has brought trouble. To the homes, to the old families, to the students and teachers, to the Mage, to me. Most of all now. I’m in so much trouble. My fingers splayed in his golden hair. My leg wrapped around his. My nails scratching gently at his scalp. There’s no normal after tonight. Everything is going to be different, for better or worse. But either way, different. One thing will stay the same either way. I will still be desperately in love with Simon Snow.

“Why did he hit you though?” I question after an interlude of quiet. “Seems like it should have been the other way around.” 

“It was. I punched him square in the nose, this was retaliation. His ring is what did it,” he brushes his fingers over the gash again, this time he doesn’t wince. “Honestly, he’s got a terrible back hand, barely would have stung if not for the cut. I obviously get my fight from my mother.” 

“She must have been strong if she carried you. I can barely stand to be in the same room as you sometimes with how you just leak magic. It’s dizzying.” 

I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out and Snow began to wriggle out of my arms. “Sorry,” he muttered, turning to face the wall again. He lay basically in the crack between the bed and the wall as if to ensure he is far enough from me. 

“No, Sn-Simon, I didn’t mean- it’s not your fault. Just, sometimes it’s a lot.” He doesn’t show any signs of movement but his shoulders do relax. I place my hand between them. “Come back…please? I quite like the dizziness today.” 

He rolls back into my arms. I squeeze him tighter this time. We stay there. This time it might actually be for an hour or more. I’ve been holding Simon Snow for over an hour and the world is still turning. He might even be sleeping. He may have slept in my arms. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. I hope it lasts. 

“Guess what?” Snow’s voice is scratchy and adorable and though I’m not looking at him I think I can hear a smile. 

I decide to indulge him and not ruin what he has to say with my usual wit. “What?”

“Lucy’s last name was Salisbury.”

“So Snow-“

“Is not my last name, it’s my middle name. Simon Snow Salisbury.” 

“Got a nice ring to it. But I hope you’re aware that I’ll still be calling you Snow.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different.” There’s a beat, and I can tell he’s working himself to ask me something. Shifting stiffly in my arms. “Baz?” 

“Hmm?” I mumble sleepily. 

“What did you mean earlier?” 

“When?” 

“When you said it was easier to hurt me?” 

The sigh I release is unintentional but expresses perfectly how that question makes me feel. Exasperated. “Not now, Snow.” 

“Yes now.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this when you’re sad. It’s not supposed to be sad. Or at least I hope it’s not.”

“Baz please, I’m sleeping in your arms.” 

“Fitfully.” 

“But I’m here. I came back. I let you in. It’s your turn. Let me in.” 

I can feel my throat tighten up. Like all those times I hurt him just so I wouldn’t say it. Just in case if it did slip out I could play it off like another one of my plots. I could say ‘who would ever love Simon Snow?’ and it would cut deep. I knew it would cut deep because I knew what it was like to not have someone who loved me unconditionally. I did once, but she’s long gone. I have my father but I know how he feels about me being gay and a vampire. I know if I ever act on either that I’ll lose him too. And Simon doesn’t even have that. He has friends, but friends are disposable. He’s never known the love of a mother, or a father. And I was sure he was never going to know love from me. But his world had already been turned upside down today, maybe another bombshell would set it right again. 

He’s looking at my so expectedly. He must know, he has to know. On the off chance he doesn’t this is going to be terribly awkward. “The truth is, Simon Snow,” 

“Salisbury.” 

God he’s insufferable, “Simon Snow Salisbury, the truth is that it has always been easier to hurt you than it has been to show you that I like you.” 

A ripple of energy rolls off of his skin and into my body. I think I may have seen a glow of magic, but it might have just been a shiver (when I tell this story to our children I’ll tell them it was magic). Either way, the smile that pulls coyly onto his face is the realest magic I’ve ever seen. And when he pushes up to kiss me I’m dizzier than he’s ever made me before. So dizzy in fact that I can’t do much more than lay here, letting him do all the work. I would probably feel bad if I could feel any emotion other than ‘Merlin and Morgana, I’m kissing Simon Snow! Simon Snow is kissing me!’ He’s doing this thing with his chin that I quiet like, moving it forward and back. It’s nothing like I expected my first kiss to be. I expected it to be rushed and forced and end with me getting punched. This is better.

“This will end in war,” I remind him, running my pointer finger along the strong outline of his jaw. I can just make out the mole on his cheek that I’ve had my eye on kissing since I was 12. I kiss it now. 

“You forget, I’m no longer on the Mage’s side.” 

“You forget, there’s still the Humdrum to worry about. And the old families. You’re still technically the Mage’s heir. Even more so now.” 

“I’ll get emancipated.” 

Now that I’ve got my vision back I lift myself up on one elbow, hover over him for just long enough for him to refuse before kissing him again. “How are you so calm about this?” I mumble into his lips. 

“D’know, just am,” he mumbles back, “I try not to think. You should try it sometime,” he adds in between pecks. 

“I’ll do that, long as you promise we can keep doing this.” 

“If it’ll keep you from trying to feed me to another Chimera, I’m game. I like this far better than fighting.” 

“Me too.”


End file.
